


The Butterfly Effect

by Amandyalmonds



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hybrids, Anxiety, Cat!Minako Okukawa, Cat!Yuri Plisetsky, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:22:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11786913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amandyalmonds/pseuds/Amandyalmonds
Summary: Returning home for the first time in five years, Katsuki Yuuri is coachless and out of shape, unsure if he'll return for the next season.  Viktor Nikiforov's just won his fifth consecutive title, and Yuuri just wants to show Yuuko what he's been working on before the pressure over whether or not he'll skate next season begins.  He skates for Yuuko, mimicking a routine he has no right to mimic, and then.He jumps.





	1. Returning

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone, I'm jumping back into this thing called writing after being away for awhile, and it feels great. This whole thing sort of started when I toyed with the idea of what'd happen if Yuuri hadn't been able to complete Viktor's routine at the start of the show, considering how out of shape he'd been. Things went from there, and the events taking place will only very loosely follow canon events after the first few chapters. 
> 
> Hybrids, (or Felisians) are also part of this world, and have the same rights as any human. They're a sub-set of the population, and their features (cat ears and tails) differ based on feline breeds native to their countries. Mentions of this are fairly minimal to start, but it will play a larger role in the developing narrative down the line. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

In two hours, Yuuri would be home.

It still felt unreal.  His graduation had been a blur, and he'd spent most of it dazed, wondering if he was going to cry and feeling numb when he didn't.  He'd said goodbye to Phichit at the end of it, his friend giving him a bone crushing hug and refusing to let go until Yuuri promised that yes, he'd text him every day and they'd video chat often.  Parting ways with Celestino had been awkward, even though his coach seemed to understand and wished him well. 

Yuuri couldn't help but think Celestino had been relieved to get rid of him, despite the smiles. 

Especially considering how much of a disaster his season had been.  Thinking about his last season was why his stomach was currently in knots.  He should be happy, he was finally going to see his family after all this time and yet—

The thought of explaining _why_ he was coming home to everyone had him almost losing the meager lunch he'd eaten on the train.  Faintly, he rubbed his uneasy stomach through the layers of his coat, fingers expertly mapping out how much weight he'd gained.  Reminding him how much he had to hide.  He knew his parents wouldn't care, but Minako would.  She was sure to notice as soon as she saw him, and explaining his weight meant explaining his season, neither of which he was sure he could manage without breaking down.

He sighed and looked out the window, trying to distract himself by watching the blurring landscape.  His thoughts kept circling, pulling him apart at the seams as they taunted him.  What was he going to do now if he didn't skate?  His parents would welcome him home with open arms and bright smiles, as if he'd never left.  They'd let him stay as long as he needed, would let him work in the onsen, indefinitely, even.  But Mari would be disappointed.  She wouldn't come out and say it though.  He'd see it in her lingering looks as she smoked, in the toss of her head and the roll of her eyes.  He was the one who'd left home, had made the break from their sleepy hometown; only to come crawling back after five years and an abysmal season.

Could he keep skating?

Yuuri clenched his hands, knowing his professional prospects were next to none.  If Hasetsu hadn't been so rural, he might have found something skating for parties or even ice performances.  As it was, his only option was possibly coaching, although he was still a bit young.  Then again, who would want a coach that couldn't hold himself together during competitions? 

At least if he never returned to professional skating, he wouldn't be able to make a fool of himself in front of an audience.  Or Viktor.

He shuddered as a wave of anxiety rolled through him, leaving him hot and jittery, clutching at his hair until it passed.  Theoretically, he knew Viktor probably hadn't seen him perform at the Grand Prix.  Viktor hadn't recognized him when they'd passed in the lobby, after all.  Yuuri still flinched at the memory.  He wasn't sure what was worse, that Viktor hadn't thought him competition enough to watch, or that Viktor had watched and had seen how badly he'd done.

Dimly, Yuuri heard someone gasping for breath, and he realized it had to be him when he saw no one else around.  Wheezing, he hunched over himself and tried to remember how to breathe.  When that didn't work he checked his watch, watching the seconds tick away, grounding him.  Barely ten minutes had passed though, and he still had to face home.  He would not cry.  There weren't tears pricking his eyes, his nose starting to run.  Everyone was going to ask him why he was coming home.  Disappointment and anger and looking at him like a failure because he wasn't strong enough.  How had he'd thought he'd be able to manage this five years ago?

Shaky, he leaned his head against the glass, sinking into the cold touch against his too hot skin.  His thoughts kept spiraling, a little swarm of sparrows.  No, they were crows, large and pecking away until there was nothing left.

Eventually, much too soon, much too late, the train pulled into Hasetsu station. 

So much had changed in five years.

There were now automated machines to dispense tickets and electronic displays gracing the edge of the platform as he stepped off, bag in hand.  Escalators ran beside the stairs now, and they looked dirty and reeked of use, even though Yuuri knew they couldn't have been more than five years old.  But despite how everything looked new, there were still familiar aspects.  Like how the entire station looked older, soften than the ones in Detroit, rural in a way that spoke of low funds and home.

He smiled as he trailed a hand down the escalator, the railing pulling his fingers backwards.  When he stepped off at the bottom, he took one look around and immediately remembered the biggest downside to living in the middle of nowhere.

There, plastered on seemingly every wall, were posters of Yuuri in one of his old skating outfits.  Poised and graceful, staring off the page as if he was going to watch his competitors fall around him.  Where had they even gotten that picture?  He stared, thrown off and embarrassed and wondering why they still had it up.  Surely they'd seen his last season?  Yuuri groaned, wishing he could take them down or at least already be home already so he wouldn't run into anyone and have to explain why he was back or—

"Yuuri!" He jumped as a familiar voiced crooned his name.  Spinning around, he came face to face with his old ballet teacher, Minako.  She was holding a large banner that read 'Welcome Home Yuuri!!!' as she twirled.

He was struck, even as she stayed perfectly poised in an arabesque with a wide grin, at how much she'd aged.  There were so many new lines around her face, and he hoped they were from laughter, not stress.  But maybe they weren't new, and he only noticed because the spark that'd always been in her eyes seemed to be fainter now.

Dim.

"Well don't just stand there Yuuri, come give me a hug!" Minako said while setting the ridiculous banner aside and opening her arms wide.  Before he could protest, Minako had swept him into tight hug, knocking the air from him.  He froze, his arms pinned to his side and useless.  She wouldn't notice his weight, would she?  Before he could worry more, she squeezed him gently, her arms strong and exactly like he remembered.  Involuntarily, he relaxed and hugged her back, chasing the familiar.  Only then did she let go, grinning, her ears perking up.

Despite his years in Detroit, Minako was still the only Felisian he knew well.  Mainly because although they weren't uncommon across the world, only a small population were native to Japan.  Having grown up in such a rural area, Minako had actually been the only Felisian he'd met until he'd moved to Detroit.  She had slender ears the same color as her hair, and an extremely short, kinked tail.  Both were covered in short hair, and partly the reason she'd become such a famous dancer.

It wasn't that being a Felisian had given her an unfair advantage in dance.  Most Felisians did have a better sense of balance and eyesight, but any other differences ended there.  To make things more fair, most international sports had created rules against using one's tail for enhanced balance.  For example, for both ballet and ice skating, Felisians were required to keep their tails underneath their uniforms in order to negate any innate balance advantages.  But because Minako's tail was so short, she'd been allowed to perform with it out, and had become both famous and infamous for it.

People were either furious about her 'advantage' or inspired by her resilience.  Yuuri just remembered how often he'd hung onto her tail as a child, seeking comfort, and had clung to her ears during piggyback rides.

"It's good to have you home.  There are so many people waiting to see you though, so we should go," Minako said quickly, grabbing Yuuri's hand and tugging him toward the exit.  He flushed at the thought of having to see everyone and explain why he was home.

That no, he didn't have plans.

That he couldn't skate.

He sucked in a breath, shaky as he planted his feet and pulled Minako back.

"Yuuri, they're all waiting for you, we should get going," Minako tried again, pulling gently at his hand as her ears flicked backwards in confusion.

"I can't," Yuuri managed, pulling his hand from hers as her ears fell.  He looked away and took a step back.  He knew he was a failure, and couldn't bear to see it reflected in her eyes.  Maybe he could convince her to leave him here.  He'd find a way home, wouldn't have to face anyone.  Could hide for a bit longer.

"Excuse me sir."  Yuuri startled at the new voice, turning to see an elderly woman with a small girl clutching her hand.  "You wouldn't happen to be the young gentleman on the posters, would you?"  His stomach rolled and he coughed, hastily pulling up the mask he'd been wearing.

"I'm sorry ma'am but I'm not—"

"Oh no you don't Yuuri," Minako interjected, grinning forcibly at him and taking his hand as she turned toward the pair.  She plastered on a forced smile, years of performing letting her fall into it naturally.  "If Viktor Nikiforov is nice to his fans, then you're going to be too," she hissed under her breath at him.  The old woman was smiling, the little girl beside her looking at Minako in what looked like awe.  She kept pulling on the woman's arm and pointing toward Minako.  Resigned, Yuuri sighed and held out his hand, trying to mimic Minako's smile.

"Yes, that's me.  It's a pleasure to meet you," he said, wishing he was home as the old woman shook his hand, starting to jabber away about him and how she was so proud to have met someone so famous from their little town.  He grit his teeth against the praise, the bitter taste of bile in the back of his throat.

"Are they real?" The girl suddenly asked, still pointing up at Minako.  Yuuri froze, stuck shaking the woman's hand as she refused to let go.  Or stop talking.  Minako laughed, crouching down and flicking her ears forward.

"Do they feel real to you?" she asked, amusement coloring her voice.  The girl's mouth popped open and she immediately poked Minako's ears.

"They're real!" she exclaimed, bursting into giggles as Minako stood.  Yuuri tried—and failed—to free his hand as the woman continued to ramble.  He tried looking at Minako, begging for help, but she only nodded along at whatever the old woman was saying and made no move to leave.  It took another five minutes before the woman let go of his hand and said her farewell, leaving with a smile.  Yuuri collapsed into himself once she was gone, drained.

"Can we go home now?" he asked, almost pleading.  His skin was starting to prickle from the prolonged touching, and his thoughts had devolved from spiraling into a gaping hole that sucked him dry.  He couldn't handle running into anyone.  Not after the long flight he barely slept on and the subsequently tiring train ride.

"Okay.  Come on, we'll make the rounds another time," Minako said with a soft look.  She urged Yuuri on but stayed at his side without touching him, for which he was immensely grateful.

They caught a cab to the inn, and the ride was short and silent, leaving Yuuri nervous and tapping his fingers across his knees.  He should stop, but Minako was being too quite.  Surely she'd be asking him a million questions by now?  Wasn't she disappointed?  Or just angry that he hadn't wanted to talk to that old woman.  He should've tried to be nicer, smiled better, responded with more than his name and some half-hearted platitudes.  Whatever was behind her silence, he knew on some level he'd failed her.  She'd been the one to encourage him to start skating all those years ago, but he couldn't make himself broach the subject. 

Didn't want to see the regret lurking in her gaze.

"We're here," Minako said at last, breaking the silence.

"Yes!" Yuuri replied quickly, jerking in his seat.  Minako gave him a look, staring for a few moments as if searching for something before she shooed him out of the car.  He grabbed his bags and then trailed behind her as they walked into Yu-topia.  Hesitant, worry and dread bubbling inside his throat.

This was it.

Unless his parents let him sneak past and hide in his room.  But he severely doubted that was going to happen.

"Hello!" Minako called out as they stepped inside, her ears perking up as she slipped off her shoes.  Yuuri followed suit as he heard a gasp from the other room followed by the soft thudding of feet.  Another moment and his mother appeared from around the corner, out of breath and still running until she came to a precarious halt in front of him.

"Yuuri!" Hiroko called out, and it was as if he'd never left.  She radiated joy and warmth, and he was relieved to see she hadn't changed. 

"Hi mom, you look great," he said with a smile.  He was a kid again, pleasantly small before her.

"Oh Yuuri, you're too kind," Hiroko said, somehow still balanced on the edge of the step despite how she was literally bubbling with excitement.  Suddenly, she threw out her arms, open, waiting, her eyes full of longing and a request, waiting for his response.  He made a small noise, overwhelmed, and stepped forward to meet her halfway, wrapping his arms around her tight.

Even after all these years, she still waited for his permission, knowing he couldn't always handle the contact.  Only Phichit had embraced this request with a second thought, and Yuuri had forgotten what it'd felt like to not have to worry.  Hiroko hugged him just as tightly and he buried his face into her shoulder, enveloped in her scent for another moment before he pulled back.

"I'm sorry I never visited.  I-I missed you," he said as he rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, entirely not crying.  Well.  He was only crying a little.  Not that there was anything wrong if he _was_ crying, but it would eventually smudge his glasses.

"All that matters is you're home safe," Hiroko said, beaming as she finally turned and welcomed Minako before waving them both further into the house.  In the lobby, a few customers were still up, drinking and watching the television.  Yuuri caught sight of his dad in the back of the room and went to greet him when his mother stopped, making him stumble a bit into her.  He apologized quickly, and she turned and gave him a sad look.

He knew it had nothing to do with him running into her.

"I can't believe I almost forgot.  Yuuri, do you want to see Vicchan?"  Yuuri swallowed, his throat thick and eyes still damp.  He berated himself for forgetting about his dog.  That should have been the first thing he'd asked about and yet all he'd wanted to do was flop into his bed.  Hiroko patted his arm and pointed down the hall, telling him to come back for dinner when he was done.

Walking into the dark room felt like a finality as he slid the door open.  Of course, Vicchan had been gone for almost a year now but entering the dark room somehow made it more real.  He didn't bother turning on the lights, as the darkness seemed to suit the mood and matched the churning emotions pulling at his stomach.  Kneeling in front of the shrine, he looked at the picture of Vicchan and softly cried.

"I'm so sorry Vicchan," he said as he bent over himself.  He should've been there for him, should've visited, should've insisted on having him flown over to join him in college and deal with paying a pet fee.  He could've brought Vicchan along with him on his travels, would've been able to stop him from running out onto the road.  _Heshouldhaveheshouldhaveheshouldhave._

"Well, you look like shit."  Yuuri blinked, clearing his eyes as he turned to see his sister leaning against the door and lazily smoking a cigarette.  He almost asked her why she was smoking inside, and then he groaned and admitted defeat.  He'd become accustomed to American laws.  Mari raised an eyebrow, pulling another drag.

"So what's the plan?  You helping out around here or what?"  He winced, knowing that Mari would be the one to ask him first.  He'd known, and still didn't have an answer.

"I...," he trailed off, taking a moment before deciding he might as well tell the truth.  Mari would see through his lies and punch him for it anyways.  "I don't know."

'I'm sure mom and dad would like it if you stayed."

"I know, it's just that—"

"I'd like the help too," she said, cutting him off.  His face fell.  Did everyone really only want him working here?  "But then who would we have to brag about?" She took another drag of her cigarette, shifting away from the wall.

"But whatever, you'll figure something out," she said with a small smile.  Yuuri returned it, shoving his dread away and trying to focus on how nice it was to see his sister again.  How could he have thought five years wasn't a long time?  "You should go soak in the onsen, you really look like you could use it."  And with that, she turned and left.  Yuuri stared after her, breathing loudly in the silence until he couldn't take it anymore.

He needed out.

Out of here, out of his mind, out of his skin that was itching and hot and _wrong._

He stood abruptly, vision going fuzzy for a few moments.  He blinked it away and went back into the lobby, taking a moment to greet his dad before he ran off.  Rocking on his feet, he turned to leave when Minako popped up in front of him, staring at Yuuri too closely.

"Yuuri, you still haven't taken off your coat," she said with a twitch of her ears. 

Yuuri felt everything stop.  Except for his heart, which beat too loudly in his ears.  This is what he'd been worried about.  If only he could sneak back to his room before she could—

"What are you hiding under all those layers?"  Without any other warning, Minako spun Yuuri around, undressing him with a practiced hand until he was down to his shirt and pants.  He hastily tugged the former over his stomach, trying to hide everything. 

Minako screeched.

"What is this Yuuri?  This is _not_ a figure skater's body!"  she hissed, poking at his stomach as he flushed and pulled his shirt down more.

"You know I gain weight easily when I'm not skating," Yuuri softly said, afraid to look her in the eye.  He knew it wasn't that she actually cared about his weight, but that she cared he wasn't actively skating.  Upset, confused, and probably a bit hurt that he hadn't come to her for help.  She glared, her tail twitching as much as it could.  He pictured it lashing out behind her if it'd been long enough.  As it was, her eyes made up for what her tail lacked, full of worry, not anger.

"I think he looks great Minako!"  His mother chirped up from the back of the room, making Yuuri blush.  And to his surprise, Minako started laughing and waved a hand.

"My studio's still open to you anytime."  Yuuri's eyes widened.

"But what about your classes?"

"I only teach a few classes anymore," Minako softly replied, looking away.  "There aren't many kids interested in dance these days."  Yuuri heard the unspoken words: _there aren't that many kids._   He wished he could do something for her, but it wasn't like he could bring her students any more than he could bring customers to Yu-topia.  His jitters came back as the somber mood settled over them.

He needed to get out, away from the nostalgia and concern.

"I'm sorry Minako.  I mean, t-thank you but I need to—"  Minako sighed, waving him off.

"Go, but don't stay out too long," she said with a growing smirk.  "Viktor's skating tonight and you don't want to miss him."  Yuuri blushed at that, trying to stammer out a response.  Unable to manage, he turned and fled, grabbing his workout bag as he rushed into the chilly night.

And went where he'd always gone when he needed to get away.

He hadn't thought his plan through though.  he ended up outside of Ice Castle Hasetsu, breathing heavily from running the entire way there.  He was more out of shape then he'd like to admit, and he was currently trying to work up the nerve to go inside.  Normally, he wouldn't hesitate, but he hadn't seen his childhood friend Yuuko in five years.  For all he knew, she didn't work here anymore.  Maybe she'd taken a better paying job to support her family?  He pictured her triplets, small and feeble from being born a bit too early.  Their tiny hands and mouths covered beneath the pre me monitors and tubes.  How old would they be now?  Five?  Six?  He blinked, trying to picture the small wrinkled messes as six-year olds.

He should probably stop staring at the entrance to the rink though, lest he look like some creeper.  He was fairly sure the rink was closed by now anyways, although the lights were still on inside, albeit dimmer.  He paced for another minute before deciding to take his chance and head inside.  If Yuuko wasn't working, he'd turn and leave without bothering the new worker.  No harm done.

Yuuri was beyond relived when he saw Yuuko's familiar figure bent over behind the check-in bar.  He walked up to her, already smiling.

"Hey, mind if I skate for a bit?"  Yuuko paused, still bent over and already talking as she stood.

"I'm sorry sir, but we're actually closed..."  Her eyes widened as she realized who was standing in front of her.

"Yuuri!" she shouted, excited and almost falling over the bar as she leaned over it and took Yuuri's hands in her own.  "It's been so long!  How are you?  Are you here to skate?  Takeshi just resurfaced the ice so it's all good to go!" she blurted, her eyes sparkling.  Yuuri laughed, relaxing in her familiar presence.

"I won't be long, but I would like to skate.  I have something to show you, if you'll watch?" he asked hesitantly, fiddling with his glasses and looking away.  He'd been preparing this surprise for almost a year now, but he'd come back later if she didn't want to watch him now.  And needed to get home to her kids.

"Of course!  I'll meet you out there," she said with a nod, still grinning and staring at Yuuri as if she hadn't seen him in years. 

It had been five years, hadn't it?

The number haunted him at times.

Yuuko missed Yuuri's sudden frown, already having started off towards the rink.  Pulling himself together, Yuuri went to change and methodically slipped on his too tight exercise clothes.  He pulled his shirt down, ignoring the bulge as he leaned over to tie his skates.  Ignored how his feet dug into his laces, pushing out from the ankles.  Ignored the bitterness and frustration.

He had a show for Yuuko, after all.

Yuuri joined Yuuko in the rink, gasping at the sight of it.  Unlike everything else, the rink looked exactly like it had when he'd left.  Yuuko waved as he stepped onto the rink and skated over to her.  He handed her his skate guards, and then took off his glasses.  Everything went blurry as he handed them to her as well.

"Can you..." he trailed off, unsure what he was asking.  Thankfully, Yuuko seemed to understand. 

"I'll watch you Yuuri.  Just do what you do best."  Yuuri gave her a look and skated to the center of the rink.  As he stopped, he realized his legs were shaking, minute shudders he couldn't stop.  Weak, tired, nervous.  Telling him he shouldn't be doing this. 

It was surreal.

Being back in the Ice Castle with Yuuko watching, about to attempt something they'd been trying to do since they were kids.  Attempt being the key word, he prayed he wouldn't mess this up.

At least Yuuko had seen him fail too many times to count.  If he messed this up, one more time wouldn't be that bad, would it?  He could do this, right?  It wasn't like this was a competition or his entire skating career depended on it. 

Well, what little what left of his career that is.

Really, there was nothing left.  Nothing.

Yuuri swallowed, legs still shaking.

He couldn't do this.

But then he looked up and saw Yuuko watching him, still smiling, eyes bright and encouraging and full of love despite their blurriness from this distance.  Yuuri bottled up his fears as he took a breath, shoving the bottle into the back of his mind.  For Yuuko, he could do this. 

Quietly, he moved into the starting position.  He heard Yuuko gasp, and he had to stop himself from smiling.  He knew she recognized the pose, and he let another moment pass before he began.  He trailed his arms up slowly, the opening measures of music unraveling in his mind as he started Viktor Nikiforov's most recent routine.

And then he was lost in the ice, music spiraling out from his mind into his body.  He channeled that bottle of worries, of loss, of fear into his movements, drawing out a longing as his blades cut cleanly as he executed each step.  He didn't worry about his jumps, about points, or an audience.  He simply was Viktor, moving into each jump effortlessly and landing them as if pulled on a string.  His jumps melted into step sequences and his arms created music, morose and yearning, always grasping for someone out of reach.

He almost wished he could see Yuuko's reactions, but she was no more than a distinct blur in the corner of his eye.  Then again, he'd become Viktor.  There was a crowd in the stands, cheering on each move, each step, entranced by his performance.

He could do this.

Yuuri slipped into the second half of the routine like he'd been doing it for years.  In a way, he figured, he had.  Chasing his idol since childhood, mimicking his steps and routines and always striving, always pushing to be good enough to one day skate on the same ice as him.  And after years of hard work, he'd gotten to do just that.

Yuuri faltered minutely in his step sequence, the Grand Prix swallowing him whole. 

What was he doing, trying to skate Viktor's routine?

He was a dime-a-dozen skater, if even that after his last season.  He wasn't Viktor, could never be Viktor.  Was nothing more than a fan asking for an autograph in Viktor's mind, and wouldn't be anything other than that in the future.  What was he trying to prove?

But Yuuri couldn't stop now.  He was so close.  Somehow he hadn't messed up so far, and he only had a little more to go.  Feeling numb, he moved into a sit-spin, his world blurring completely.  He could skate those last few moves, those last few lyrics, the melody crying out in agony as he echoed it, reaching out. 

Always reaching out.

He spun out from the spin and skated backwards, gaining speed for the last jump.  He almost always landed this jump, he'd done it so often in practice now.  He would land it now, for Yuuko.  Couldn't he pretend to be Viktor for a few more seconds?

The music surged in his mind and he bent, not daring to breathe.  And then—

Yuuri jumped.

He didn't hear Yuuko's sudden gasp.  Missed the tears that'd sprung to her eyes.  Missed how she gripped her hands together, and when he crashed to the ice her nails bit through her skin into her palms.

All he knew was the world blurred as he took off.  He knew he took off wrong even as he did it.  There was nothing more he could do other than brace for the impending landing and try to make it as smooth as he could.  Yuuri leaned to the side to compensate, but it wasn't enough.

His left foot came down hard, slipping sideways with a sickening crack that rang out in the silent rink.  His body went down after that, his shoulder catching the rest of the fall as he brought his hands up to protect his head.  He felt a pop and the faint scrape of ice against his face as he skidded to a stop.

He heard someone—himself?—wheeze in pain, and the sound of pounding feet.  He dimly registered trying to tell Yuuko to not run on the ice in street shoes.

"Ohcrapohcrapohcrap!"  He turned his head toward the new voice, trying to find the owner as a wave of pain rolled over him.  Someone made a defeated sound again and then the world was swimming, crumpling into blackness until it was gone.


	2. On One Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In hindsight, he should have seen this coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let it be known that Mari is the best sister and time zones are hard to keep straight.

Yuuri stared down at his hands.  They were chafed raw, minute cuts criss-crossing them like latticework.  They pulsed in time to his heartbeat, as if saying _you failed, you failed, you failed_ in a never-ending loop.  Overwhelmed, Yuuri choked and sobbed, hunching over himself despite his arm screaming in protest.

"Are you alright?"  Yuuri recognized Minako's voice as the door to his room clicked open, but he couldn't bring himself to look at her.  He was everything but fine, the events of the last few hours playing on repeat in his mind.

After he'd crashed onto the ice, Yuuko had rushed over to help him, her three daughters—who had secretly been watching—rushing off to find their dad.  Thankfully Yuuri hadn't passed out for long, coming to as Takeshi carried him off the ice.  Everything slurred together after that; leaving the rink, rushing to the hospital, doctors fussing around him as they took x-rays.  They poked and prodded him until he was going to lash out at the next person that dared to touch him.

They'd taken care of his shoulder first, telling him how lucky he'd been to only dislocate it.  He tried to keep this in mind as they popped it back into place, his breath a silent scream. 

Luckily, he didn't have a concussion.  Luckily, he hadn't broken his wrists.

No one mentioned his foot.

His left ankle had been on fire until they'd let him sit down on a bed, clothes replaced by a scratchy, flimsy sheet that crinkled and covered less than he'd like.  A bulky boot now hung off his left foot, dead weight.  His family had been with him at least, talking quietly to a doctor near the edge of the room.  If he'd paid attention, he could've heard what they'd been saying, but he'd been too far gone.  He didn't tune back in until Mari had suddenly yelled, making him jump and hiss in pain.  She'd immediately given him a worried look, and left the room.

His mom had been the one to walk over and calm him down, before telling him the extent of his injuries.

He'd broken his left ankle.

He'd been lucky though, he'd only broken one bone.  Wouldn't need surgery. 

But he'd be off his foot for at least 6 weeks.  Couldn't skate for at least two months.  And he was forbidden from even trying single jumps for three, preferably four months.

And if someone told him how lucky he was one more time, he was going to _scream_.

Yuuri wasn't sure when everyone had left after that.  Why did it matter?  Any chance of skating the next season was gone. 

He shuddered at the thought that he might never skate again.

It was then that Minako had walked in, catching him staring at his hands as if they held all the answers.

"Yuuri, it's going to be okay," Minako said as she stepped up to him, reaching out a hand as if to comfort him and only dropping it at the last second, looking conflicted.  She didn't deserve his self-pity and anger.  She only wanted to help, and he hadn't told her how to do that.  Normally she'd push him into her studio, but that obviously wasn't an option anymore. 

He should look at her.  She deserved that at least.

Yuuri looked up and was taken aback.  Minako looked worried, her ears laid back, face flush.  Had she been drinking?  Oh, right.  She'd been watching the competition tonight.  Not trusting himself to speak, he met her eyes for a wretched moment before he had to turn away.  Minako sighed, sitting on the edge of his bed, still a good two feet away from him. 

"This happens a lot to athletes," she said with a gentle look, hesitating and then reaching out toward his hands.  He didn't stop her as she pulled them out of the death-like grip he'd had on the sheets.

"Heck, every skater has a major injury if they skate long enough.  Even Viktor—" Yuuri flinched at the mention of Viktor and Minako stopped herself.  He'd been such a fool, thinking he could skate that routine when he was out of shape and coachless.  He should've known better.  Shouldn't have let his infatuation push him beyond the boundary of reason.  It'd been stupid and reckless and now he might never skate again—

"Leave," he whispered, yanking his hands back.  He couldn't look at Minako, couldn't bear the weight of her disappointment.

"What?" Minako breathed, freezing.

"Please leave," he repeated, forcing his voice steady as he took the chance and made eye contact again.  Minako jerked back at what she saw, her expression twisting into something pained and dark that Yuuri didn't want to think about.

And then it went carefully blank, although her ears were still pressed against her head, betraying her emotions.

"I'll let Hiroko know you're ready to head home then," she said before she turned and left.  As soon as she left, Yuuri broke again, a sob tearing through him. 

Oh god, what had he done?

He'd only wanted to prove something to Yuuko, for himself.  For some semblance of an idol he'd been chasing after all these years.

And he'd failed.

All too soon, the door to his room opened again and his sister stepped inside.  Yuuri rubbed his eyes, hoping she wouldn't notice the tears.  Or at least wouldn't mention them.

"Mom's checking you out now, it's time to go," Mari said with a wave of her hand, a pair of crutches clutched at her side.  Yuuri eyed the crutches, his shoulder throbbing.  Mari sensed his hesitation and cocked an eyebrow.

"These are for later.  You can't use them until your shoulder is healed, so I'm helping you for now," she said while crossing to him.  She stopped when she reached him, holding out an arm for him to take.  He stared at it, warring with himself before sighing and gently swinging his legs over the side of the bed.  It wasn't like he could stay here and wallow forever, after all.

His left leg protested as it hung, but he wasn't going to make this harder than it had to be.  It was bad enough that everyone kept looking at him with pitying eyes, he didn't need to add more fuel to the fire.  So he grit his teeth and heaved himself to his feet.

_Shit._

His left foot crumpled as soon as he tried to stand on it, pain lancing up like a bolt.

"Whoa, I got you," Mari said, catching him under his arms before he fell to the floor in a heap.  Once he was steady, she slipped an arm underneath his uninjured one, propping him up.

"You good?"  Yuuri nodded through the pain, gasping.  "Are you sure?  We can wait a minute before we—"

"I want to go home," he managed, hopping a bit toward the door.  If he didn't think about the pain, he could almost convince himself that lace bite and blisters were worse.

Almost.

Everything went down the drain the minute he tried to take a step.  He cried out, falling against Mari, shaking.

"The point of me helping you is so you _don't_ have to step on your foot," she grunted as she gripped him harder, taking more of his weight.  Unable to refuse, he focused on Mari's steady weight beside him and on making it out the door.  It took them a few minutes and shifting positions around, but they eventually made did it and went into the lobby. 

Yuuri was panting by the time they got there, sweaty and uncomfortable.  All he wanted was to be home, preferably in his own clothes and bed.

For once, he got his wish.  Within an hour they were home, his mother fluttering around him as Mari helped him to his room.  Once he was safely on his bed, his mother ran in and out, bringing water, medication, and a heating pad before he convinced her to leave.  He could feel the rest of his nerves slowly fraying, and he really didn't want to lash out at her.

Yuuri sunk backwards into his pillows as soon as she left, boneless.  Shivering, he rubbed at his arms, trying to force the bubbling anxiety away. 

Mari coughed, reminding Yuuri that she was still in the room.  He sat up fast—oh god too fast painpainpain—and looked over to see her staring at him, eyes showing hurt in a way he hadn't seen since he'd told her he was leaving for school.

"Don't scare us like that Yuuri," she said with a bite, her voice bitter.  Yuuri flinched, hands twisting into his bedsheets.

"I—"

"I know you weren't trying to fall but dammit, you should have known better."  She cut him off with a sharp look.  She was right, and he stared at the floor, silent.  Mari sighed and walked toward him, reaching out a hand  and clearing her throat.  He looked up at her, a child again.  So, so small before her and wanting to bury his head into her stomach.

"Well, are you going to just sit there or are you going to get out of that thing?" she said, pointing at the horrendous shift he was still in.  Surprised, Yuuri blinked and flushed at what she was implying.

"I can get changed myself!" he blurted, waving his good arm in front of himself. 

Mari gave him an incredulous look, as if to say _are you sure about that?_

"With that arm?  No you're not.  Come on, it's nothing I haven't seen before," she said while moving to grab his pajamas from his drawers.  Unable to protest, he stewed in his embarrassment for the entire ordeal, only warming up after Mari cracked a few scathing jokes. 

Why hadn't he visited sooner?

Instead of following that train of thought, he laughed at Mari's jokes as she tugged on his shirt.  His shirt was baggy, too large and worm from age.  Unlike his other clothes, it didn't pull taut over his curves and he could pretend they weren't there.

"There.  Now get to bed.  You still look like shit and could use the sleep," Mari said as she turned and walked out of his room.

"Thanks," he called after her, unsure if she heard.  She must have though, because she paused at his door and gave him the smallest smile before she shut it and left.

And then Yuuri was alone.

Surrounded by deafening silence, sitting on his bed in comfortable clothes and a ringing dread buried in his heart.  He was done.  Any chance of skating the next season gone.  Not that he'd had much of a shot in the first place, but he'd still _hoped_.

He jumped when something wet hit his hands.  Was he crying?  He touched his face with his right hand, his left sitting useless in his lap.  Sure enough, tears were streaming down his face and running onto his hand.  He hiccupped, rubbing at his eyes.  Maybe this was all for the best.  He was an average skater, nothing special, after all.  What better way to prove it than by crashing as he had?  Trying to emulate a five-time world champion as if he'd won gold too.

At least only Yuuko and her daughters had seen him.  He took solace in that as he cried until he was too drained to cry anymore.  Snot dripped from his nose and he sucked it back in, unable to reach the tissues he had across the room.  Defeated, he curled up on his uninjured side, already feeling bruises blooming across it.  Mari would see them in the morning, and he tried not to think about that.  Instead, he clutched his pillow and sniffled until he fell asleep.

Yuuri woke to sunlight streaming in through his windows, oddly subdued.  He had one blissful moment of being not quite awake, and then the pain hit him.  Groaning, he tossed his good arm over his face and hit his glasses, letting out a disgruntled sound.  Hadn't he taken them off?  Opening his eyes, the world was smudged and blurry and he sighed.  Maybe if he stayed in bed he wouldn't have to face the day.

"Yuuri!  Are you up yet?  It's past noon, so get your butt out of bed."  Yuuri glanced over as Mari opened his door, confused.  Past noon?  The lack of sunlight coming in his window said otherwise, and he stared at it.  Mari followed his gaze.

"It snowed last night," she said with a sour expression.  "I spend all morning clearing a pathway because _someone_ can't walk."

"I'm sorry," he said as he wiped his glasses clean on his shirt.  Had it really snowed this late in the year?  Once glance out his window showed that sure enough, snow covered everything.

"It is what it is.  Now let's get you out of bed," she said with a roll of her shoulders, already pulling out an outfit for the day.  Yuuri started to protest, but she sent a glare over her shoulder that made him bite his tongue.  He hated that he couldn't do it himself.  That he was in pain and weak and wanted to curl back up under his sheets and hide.

Mari methodically helped him change, only hesitating once his shirt was off.  She stared as he flushed, letting out a low whistle before she tugged his arms into an old sweater that was too sizes too big.  He didn't want to know how bad the bruises looked.  He only knew that they were tender and made breathing slightly painful. 

Clothes on, Mari helped him shuffle into the lobby, depositing him at a table and telling him to stay put.

"Have you seen my phone?"  Yuuri asked, stopping Mari before she could walk away.  It hadn't been in his room, nor did he remember seeing it at the hospital.  Hopefully someone had grabbed it and his other things from the rink?  Granted, he wasn't looking forward to answering his missed texts, but he figured he should.  Phichit was probably spamming him non-stop until Yuuri let him know he'd gotten home safely.

"I think mom has it.  I'll go look," Mari said, fingers twitching like she needed a smoke.  She'd helped him out so much, what was he thinking asking her to run an errand?  He could wait until Hiroko showed up and could ask her.  But before he could tell her to forget about it, she was gone.

Alone, or as alone as he could be in the inn's main room, Yuuri fidgeted and twined his fingers into his sweater.  The customers weren't staring at him, weren't wondering why he couldn't walk or had a boot on and looked terrible.  He tried to tell himself this, but it wasn't working.  It seemed like the entire room had turned and stared when he'd entered with Mari, and although they'd looked away he could feel their questions pressing into him.

Yuuri was back to staring at his hands when Mari returned with his phone and a glass of water.

"These are from mom," she said as she handed him some pain medication.  He gratefully took the pills, and then gulped down the glass of water, thirsty.  He coughed as he finished, looking up to see Mari waiting with his phone.

"Thanks."

"No problem.  If you need anything, just yell.  Mom's finishing breakfast and will bring it out," she said as she looked him over, as if checking to make sure he wasn't going to fall over.  Satisfied, she grunted and left, already pulling out a cigarette from her pocket as she went outside.  He watched her leave, and then looked down at his phone.

He should let Phichit know he was okay.

But wait. 

Phichit wouldn't know about his fall.  No one would. 

That made things a lot less daunting.  He scoffed at himself.  He was worrying over nothing.  Phichit probably just wanted to know if he'd made it home alright.  That wouldn't be too bad.

Calmer, Yuuri turned on his phone and immediately dropped it as it went haywire with notifications.  He watched it, horrified as it went on for almost a solid minute.  When it stopped he hesitantly picked it back up and scrolled through the messages.

Something was wrong.

Almost everyone in his contacts had texted him multiple times.  He normally only got a handful of texts on a good day, and even with Phichit's mass of texts, this was going a bit overboard.  Unsure what was going on, he steeled himself and started with Phichit's messages.

_[16:23] Phichit <3:  
yuuuuurrrrrriiiii_

_[16:47] Phichit <3:_  
are u home yet  
u should be home

_[17:02] Phichit <3:  
okay I get it ur saying hi to everyone but like Yuuri how is home u r home right._

_[19:01] 1 missed call from Phichit <3_

_[19:05] Phichit <3:  
did ur flight get delayed again?  _

_[19:42] Phichit <3:  
omg u skated viktor's routine???  why didn't u tell me u were practicing it?_

Wait.

_What?_

Yuuri froze.  Looking at the timestamps, he did the math with growing horror.  No, it wasn't possible.  Phichit couldn't have seen him skate.  There was no way.  Yuuko hadn't been recording it.  Shaky, he read the rest of the messages.

 _[19:43] Phichit <3:_  
oh my god  
yuuri im crying this is beautiful. 

_[19:44] Phichit <3:  
yes!!!  u nailed that toe loop!_

_[19:46] 1 missed call from Phichit <3_

_[19:48] Phichit <3:_  
_shit_  
_yuuri answer your phone._

_[19:52] 3 missed calls from Phichit <3_

_[20:01] Phichit <3:_  
_Call me when you get home so I know you're okay._  
_You'd better be okay._

Yuuri swallowed nervously, a cold sweat making him shiver.  How had Phichit seen him skate?

Suddenly, everything clicked.

He gagged, stomach churning, revolting against the sudden clarity. 

Yuuko's daughters had been there.  If Phichit had seen him skate, then that meant they'd taped him and sent it to Phichit.  He only hoped that was the only person they sent it too.   Unsteady, he opened Yuuko's messages and tried to swallow the bile rising in his throat.

 _[20:22] Yuuko:_  
_Yuuri I'm so sorry I hope you're alright but uh_  
_Don't hate me but the girls may have videoed you skating._

 _[1:53] Yuuko:_  
_Apparently they uploaded that video after they took it??_  
_And its gone viral??? i mean u do look great until that last bit so of course it did but still_

 _[9:33] Yuuko:_  
_Okay so I told them to take it down but they insisted on leaving it up.  Like, everyone's impressed and it really does look great._  
_But I'll take it down if you want me to.  Just watch it before I do, okay? youtube.com/watchv=KHbbDjp73Zo_

He numbly clicked the link, still trying to grasp the situation as the video popped up, loading. 

_Katsuki Yuuri skates Viktor Nikiforov's Stay Close to Me!!!_

He winced at the title, almost closing it right then but he forced himself to keep watching.  Yuuko had said people had liked it, although he couldn't imagine why.  All he saw was weak footwork and an overweight skater performing something beyond his abilities.  He cringed at a messy landing and faintly rubbed at his stomach.  He shouldn't have tied to pull off that routine.  Because as he was now, he wasn't anything close to Viktor.

And yet.

Despite the flaws, Yuuri couldn't look away.  It wasn't until he saw himself gearing up for the last jump that he remembered what was going to happen.  He breathed out a soft _no_ as he jumped, trying to reach through the screen and into the past to stop himself.

He watched himself jump, and then crash onto the ice.  His foot twitched at the reminder.  Unsurprisingly, the video cut off shortly after that.

He should tell Yuuko to take it down.

If anyone from the skating world saw it, they'd _know._   It was one thing to burn out during competition after competition, but to injure himself trying to emulate another skater was beyond embarrassing. 

He really should tell Yuuko to take it down.

Yuuri glanced at the total number of views and choked.  Shocked, he looked down at the number of comments and took in the number, forcing himself not to read them.  There were almost as many comments as views, and both were high enough to make him want to curl up under the table.  Instead of hiding, he flipped back to Yuuko's messages and typed a response.

 _[13:11]_  
_Thank you for letting me know about the video._  
_You can leave it up._

He wasn't sure why he'd agreed to leave the video up.  The thought of other skaters he knew seeing it was bad enough, but _what if Viktor saw it?_   Scrambling, he went to take it all back when his phone buzzed.

_[13:12] Yuuko:  
Are you sure?_

Of course he wasn't sure.  It had to come down.  Should be deleted and pushed into a space where he could promptly try to pretend it never happened.

_[13:13]  
Yes._

His fingers betrayed him.  Scowling, he jumped when Yuuko replied quickly.

_[13:15] Yuuko:  
I'll leave it up then.  By the way, are you okay?   Mari said you broke your ankle.  You don't need surgery do you?_

Yuuri gripped his phone hard, his fingers going white in protest.  Blankly, he typed out a long explanation letting her know what was going on.  Once sent, he methodically responded to the rest of his texts, mainly from Celestino and Minako asking how he was.  By the time he finished, his stomach was grumbling as the smell of food drifted into the room.

"Here you go dear," Hiroko said as she walked in from the kitchen, a plate of eggs and yogurt in each hand. 

"Thanks mom," he said, grateful as she set the food down.  Hiroko beamed and patted his head, telling him to call if he wanted more before she bustled off to take care of the customers in the room.

As soon as he finished, he picked up his phone and hesitated over the call button.  He needed to give Phichit a call before he worried his friend any further.  Honestly, Yuuri was surprised that Phichit hadn't texted him in the morning despite saying he'd wait for Yuuri to call.  Phichit was typically impatient when it came to responses, and the fact that he hadn't spammed Yuuri again was worrying.

Shaking his head, Yuuri sighed and hit the call button before he could over-think it.  The phone barely made it through one ring when Phichit picked up, practically yelling.

 _"You were amazing!"_   Yuuri flinched and moved the phone away from his ear.  He should have seen that one coming.

"What?"

 _"Don't 'what' me like you don't know what I'm talking about Yuuri.  Your skating.  It was almost a perfect copy of Viktor's!"_ Phichit said, his voice growing more and more exited in Yuuri's ear. 

"Yeah, almost..." Yuuri said bitterly, looking down at his lap.  Close wasn't good enough, as evidenced by his broken ankle.  Even if he _had_ completed that jump, it wouldn't have been on Viktor's level.  He'd seen that after re-watching the video a few times.  He'd been lacking _something_ , some emotion or poise that no matter how many times he went and watched videos of Viktor skating the routine, he couldn't pin-point the difference.

 _"Yuuri.  You_ do _know how hard Viktor's routine for Stammi Vicino is, right?  So hard that he won his fifth gold medal for it and you went and pulled it off."_

"I fell, Phichit."

 _"Minor details."_ Yuuri heard Phichit scoffing and he pictured him waving his arms around as if to swat away Yuuri's self-doubt. _"Wait, are you okay, by the way?  It looked like a pretty bad fall and you weren't responding last night..."_   Yuuri bit his lip, his free hand fisting into his sweater.

"I broke my ankle."  Yuuri heard Phichit curse.

_"Bad?"_

"Only in one spot, so it could've been worse."  Yuuri said, leaving out the part about his dislocated shoulder.  It was going to be fine in a few days anyways, and he didn't want to worry his friend more than he had too.

_"One spot isn't so bad right?  Plenty of skaters have broken their ankles or worse and they're back before—"_

"I'm not coming back."  Yuuri cut him off sharply, a surge of spite and resentment bubbling up and onto Phichit. 

_"Of course you're not, Celestino's over here with me."_

"No, I meant I'm not coming back to skating."

 _"Oh."_   Phichit sounded so small, so thrown back and subdued that Yuuri was tempted to tell him a lie, that he'd come back next season and be more determined than ever.  But Phichit was his closest friend, and he couldn't lie to him.

"It's probably for the best, I don't have a coach anymore after all." 

 _"Yuuri..._ " Phichit sighed, and then said nothing for a minute.  Yuuri waited in the silence, unsure if he should break it or hang up or change the subject.

 _"Are you sure about this?"_   Yuuri nodded, biting his lip again until he remembered that Phichit couldn't see him.

"I'm sure."  Somehow, Yuuri sounded more sure out loud than he felt inside.  Hopefully Phichit wouldn't be able to hear the discrepancy.

 _"If you're sure...then I guess this means you'll have more time to come cheer for me, right?"_   Surprised, Yuuri laughed and reminded himself how lucky he was to have met someone like Phichit.

"If you'll pay for my plane tickets, I'll be there."  He joked, smiling when Phichit squawked.  Their conversation shifted into something more playful and easy after that, and Yuuri relaxed, spending the better part of an hour catching up with Phichit even though it'd only been about a week since they'd seen each other last.  Yuuri told him how weird it was to be back in Hasetsu, and how so many things had changed.  Phichit reciprocated, and threw in some stories about Celestino.  Mainly involving his coach's abysmal knowledge of Thai as Phichit tried to play translator.  Yuuri was doubled over the table laughing by the time Phichit said he had to go, and they wished one another well before hanging up.

Yuuri pressed his head to the table after he hung up, relieved that Phichit hadn't pressed him about skating.  He had an uncanny feeling that everyone else in his life wasn't going to be as kind about it, but he'd deal with them when he got there.  For now, he really had to go to the bathroom and Mari had just walked back into the room.  Might as well get some help and his daily dose of embarrassment.

———

Three days passed before Yuuri's shoulder healed enough for him to use the crutches.  Three painful days of hobbling around with Mari in which she got great fodder for blackmail.  Not that she ever would do that, but it was fuel to the fire for teasing at the least.  And so he was more than relieved when he went to put pressure on his shoulder and it held.

As soon as he'd gotten dressed that morning, he hobbled out of the inn and to Ice Castle Hasetsu.

In retrospect, crutches were the spawn of pure evil.

By the time he'd made it to the rink, he was sweaty and aching.  His arms shook, his shoulder was on fire, and he wasn't sure if he'd make it up the scant few steps into the building.  Thankfully, Yuuko happened to be cleaning the windows and saw Yuuri.  She rushed out to help him, wrapping an arm under his and taking some of his weight.  He didn't want the help, but his relief outweighed his pride and he allowed her to walk him inside. 

Only after she'd sat him down and covered his shoulder and ankle in ice packs did she ask him why he was there.  This was the hard part.  He'd spent the last three days thinking about this and knew she wasn't going to like his suggestion.  But he had to ask.  It was either that or...

Well, he didn't exactly have a backup plan.

Thirty minutes later and he was limping back to Yu-Topia, papers clutched in his hand and Yuuko's disappointment ringing in his mind.

_'Are you sure about this Yuuri?  You really want to do this?'  He'd nodded, pressing away the unpleasant taste at the slight lie._

_'Well okay then.  Here are the forms, turn them in whenever you're ready.'  She'd paused with the forms held out, staring into his eyes, searching.  And then she'd sighed, releasing her grip._

And here he was now, vision blurry from sweat, the forms crinkled beyond repair in his hands, and swearing that he'd never use these crutches again.  He'd deal with Mari seeing him naked if it meant his arms weren't on fire.

Yuuri was planning on a long soak in the onsen when he got back to the inn, but as soon as he hobbled inside, a loud bark greeted his ears. 

_Vicchan?_

He barely had a moment to register the large brown poodle charging his way before it tackled him, sending his crutches and papers flying.  He let out a cry of pain as his elbow hit the floor and jolted his shoulder, tears pricking his eyes.  But then the dog ruffed and licked his face, messing up his glasses and making him laugh. 

"Yuuri?  Are you okay?  I heard something fall—" Hiroko stopped as she rounded the corner and saw Yuuri on the ground.  Yuuri hurried to reassure her.

"Don't worry, I'm alright.  Just a bit surprised," he said while ruffling the dog's head, having forgotten what it'd felt like to have his hands buried in wiry fur.  Hiroko let out a sigh in relief, opening her mouth to speak when Yuuri cut her off by accident.

"Whose dog is this anyways?" he asked as he scratched it behind it's ears, grinning when the dog panted and licked his face some more. 

"Our new guest's.  Some nice foreign man with a heavy accent," Hiroko said with a smile as Yuuri froze.

It couldn't be that this was...?

Yuuri scrambled to his feet, pushing the dog away and grabbing his crutches in the same movement, pain forgotten.  His mother was still talking, calling after him as he ran toward the onsen.

There was no way it could be _his_ dog, right?  Surely brown poodles weren't _that_ uncommon of a dog?

They had foreigners stay almost every other day at the inn. 

Most of them had accents.

But most of them didn't bring their dogs.

Yuuri made it into the changing room, not bothering to stop as he barreled on and into the shower room. 

One step into the misty room and he crashed, his crutches slipping sideways on the wet floor.  A handful of older men looked up at Yuuri, surprised.  One even stood as if to offer help, but Yuuri was up again, faintly aware that he'd busted his lip and not caring enough to stop.

 _Itcouldn'tbeitcouldn'tbeitcouldn'tbe._   His breathing was ragged as he made it to the door to the onsen and threw it open, expecting everything and nothing at the same time.

And.

Yuuri stared, confused and in shock.

There was no one there.

Okay, well, there were a few older gentlemen at the far end that looked up when Yuuri threw the door open, but other than that, no one was there.

Viktor wasn't—

Yuuri cut off his thoughts before they could spiral.  He'd been foolish to think that he'd recognized Viktor's dog.  Why in the world would _Viktor Nikiforov_ be here at the inn?  The man lived in Russia after all, and it wasn't like there were any competitions anywhere near Yuuri's hometown.

Face growing red from the ruckus he'd caused, Yuuri slowly limped out of the onsen and back through the rooms.  He pointedly ignored the other men's looks and turned down two offers for help before he made it back to where his mother was still standing in the main room. 

"Oh Yuuri," she tutted, walking over to him and reaching up to touch his lip.  He winced, the pain finally starting to register now that his adrenaline rush had left him.  She sighed, shaking her head as she patted his cheek.

"I was trying to tell you that the gentleman isn't in the onsen.  He asked to bathe once everyone had left, so I sent him up to the spare room beside yours."  Yuuri paled, stiffening.

"You _what?_ "  Hiroko tilted her head, confused.

"I sent him up to the spare room.  He's staying for a few days and nothing else was open so I—"

Again, Yuuri didn't wait to hear the end of her sentence.

His arms were falling off and he was already halfway up the stairs, crutches clunking loudly as his ragged breathing filled the empty stairwell.  As soon as he made it to the top he skidded, catching himself before rounding the corner and swinging—literally—into the hallway that led to both his room and the spare room.

And there, standing in the doorway to his room, was Viktor Nikiforov.

_Viktor Nikiforov._

Yuuri froze, gripping his crutches tightly as he tried not to fall while also taking in everything about the man before him.  Viktor was wearing one of the inn's robes, a sleeve falling off his shoulder as if that wasn't a breathtaking thing to do.  His hair was disheveled, adorably curling up at the edges.  Oddly, he was still wearing the silver half-circlet that'd become his trademark accessory while skating.  Did he wear it all the time?  Yuuri tried to recall an interview where Viktor hadn't been wearing the circlet and came up blank.  Weird.  But wait, Yuuri was looking at his circlet, which was in the back of his hair, which meant that Viktor was...

Yuuri let out an affronted sound before he could stop himself, and he saw the moment that Viktor realized someone else was there.  Viktor straightened up, and then turned fluidly, a heart-shaped smile already plastered on as he beamed at Yuuri.

"Oh!  Yuuri, there you are.  Is this your room?  The posters are a nice touch."  As Viktor spoke, Yuuri blushed, turning redder as he went.  He'd left his door open.  Viktor had seen his room.

Had seen all the posters.

All of them.

"Yuuri?"  Hearing the concerned tone, Yuuri looked up, and stumbled backwards when he saw Viktor standing only a few feet away from him.  He stammered, trying and failing to say something, _anything,_ to explain the presence of those posters.  Viktor just furrowed his brow, looking down at Yuuri, taking in his crutches and split lip and sweaty hair and how awful he must look right now. 

Yuuri wanted to sink into the floor.

 "Are you alright?"  When Yuuri didn't respond, Viktor stepped closer and gently touched his arm.  Yuuri flinched and bolted backwards at the electrifying touch, still trying to stammer out some semblance of a sentence and not understanding why Viktor looked confused until Yuuri realized he'd been speaking in Japanese.

"I-I'm sorry," Yuuri managed, switching back to English.  Strangely, Viktor frowned, his one hand still half raised as if he couldn't decide whether or not he was going to touch Yuuri again.  Hopefully not.  That one touch had sent a jolt through Yuuri's nerves, prickling up and down his arms.

"You don't need to apologize, Yuuri."  The heart-shaped smile was back, stealing Yuuri's sense of control over himself.  "But you didn't answer my question.  Are you alright?"  Yuuri gaped, opening and closing his mouth a few times.  How was he supposed to answer that question?  He was on crutches, about to fall over, and he might have messed up his shoulder again if the throbbing pain was anything to go by. 

He was decidedly _not_ fine, but Yuuri wasn't sure if that's what Viktor had been asking. 

"I'm fine," Yuuri said, deciding that it was the correct answer when Viktor's smile got brighter.

"Perfect, because from today on Yuuri, I'm going to be your coach!" Viktor exclaimed while pointing at Yuuri, beaming.  Stunned, any response Yuuri could have come up with flew out the window as his legs finally decided to give out.


End file.
